He didn't know who he was, or why he was here, but he knew that he was scared.
Radke was laying strapped to a table, a gunshot wound to his shoulder. She didn't know whether to be angry or grateful that he was moving too much for her to get the head shot that she was aiming for. He was howling in pain, and she thought that she had heard "Why?" several times. But then again, it was hard to tell what someone was saying with a slit throat.
At this point, she didn't know whether she should kill him, or give him a second change. The one thing she didn't need was a rebel who might end her plan before it had even begun properly. The world out there was harsh enough to her, sans her regenerated army. Thus, she didn't need any more shit from them.
Soon enough, she left, getting a pack of raw chicken. Upon her return, she noticed something. Radke had stopped howling, and was instead whimpering quietly. She noted blood oozing out of the gash on his throat between the stitches with an odd sense of grim satisfaction. His eyes rolled to look at her, with a gaze that clearly pleading with her to help him, save him, do something. Instead, she laughed at him, saying, "You started this, so shut your mouth and finish what you started. Face the fucking consequences."
He let out a whine in reply.
She ignored him, sitting on a high stool above "sh y Pur". She pulled out a small knife, holding her arm over the dead man's mouth. When she rolled her sleeve up, you could quite clearly see hundreds pf scars there. Again, the knife ripped open her skin, and his mouth filled with blood. She whispered the spell, and his withered, papery eyelids slid open, exposing his empty sockets. He let out a groan, and she smiled. "Welcome back." She said.
Then, she walked out of the room, locking it behind her. She'd be back in an hour or so to stitch up those god-awful wounds. But if he got hungry, then there was always the pack of chicken, even though it was a known fact of life that zombies, right after they were regenerated, had the most ravenous sort of appetite, and tended to go for warm, moving flesh to sate it instead of dead meat. And they didn't seem to care for anything cooked while they were in that state.
Radke let out a howl of fear upon hearing the door lock. He was regaining his sentient mind, if not necessarily his memories. As it was, he didn't know who he was, where he was, or why he was there. All he knew was that he was scared, he was in pain, his shoulder felt like it was on fire his throat was feeling like it was being ripped apart from the inside out, and A woman had just locked him in a room, tied to an autopsy table with a zombie on the loose.